Madness Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by Ice Queen1
Summary: Spoiler for season finale: Walter explains to Peter about his origins


Author's Note: Okay, this is for my sister. I actually have seen only maybe 5 episodes of Fringe because I watch the Mentalist on a different channel, but Peter has always fascinated me. I love the character to death and I wish they would do more with him. This is my theory, based on the episodes that I've seen with the little information that they've given us on Peter's past and now that he's known to be from an alternate dimension. Walter is OOC, but I needed him to be saner than normal. I'm picturing this a ways down the road, so maybe he's gotten better?

Please read and review! Hope you enjoy!

Peter stared at the grave in disbelief. He couldn't help but think of Scrooge at the end of _A Christmas Carol _when the Ghost of Christmas Future showed him his own grave. But this wasn't some time in the future. The grave before him showed the date of his death in 1985. When he was seven years old.

"What the hell?" Peter said, for lack of anything better coming to mind. He was surprised he even managed that short sentence. He shot a glance at Walter, who looked saner than he had in a long time, which only served to concern him further. "Walter, why are you showing me this?"

Walter didn't reply immediately, just stared at the grave, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Walter," Peter tried again. "Am I dead? Was this another son of yours? Did I have a brother or something? Why is there a grave with my name and birthday on it?"

"You were so very sick, Peter…" Walter suddenly spoke. "So sick, and it seemed like there was nothing I could do for you. I tried everything. Everything, son, you understand?"

Peter shook his head, not voicing an answer.

"You were dying. There was no cure because no one had ever seen the disease before. I spent years trying to save you. I barely slept. I hardly ate. Bill and I tried everything to cure you, but you just kept getting worse." Walter pulled in a shuddering breath, and Peter realized this was the most sensible his father had sounded since he pulled him out of the mental hospital. It should have been a happier occasion, but instead Peter felt like his innards were slowly being crushed. Maybe this was why he didn't remember anything before he was fourteen.

"The worst part of it all was that you weren't frightened. You knew you were dying, even when you were so young, but you weren't afraid. You knew I would find a cure, and I would save you. You would collect your coins and tell me 'Don't worry daddy, you'll find something.'"

"Well, obviously you did," Peter said, "I'm still alive. So what's with the grave?"

"I did _not_ save you, son, I couldn't," Walter stated vehemently, meeting Peter's face for the first time since they arrived at the small graveyard. "I started experimenting with other children, trying to save the only one I cared about. The cortexiphan was part of the trial, but it was a failure in every place I needed it to succeed. It was our last hope of saving you, and it did nothing."

Peter didn't want to think of what his father was implying. That he was the reason why children like Olivia had to suffer. That he was the reason behind his father's bizarre experiments on other people. "Okay, you've lost me Walter. How could you not have saved me? I mean, was it Bill who came with an answer? Someone else?"

"_You could not be saved_," Walter repeated. "Peter died in 1985 when he was seven years old, thinking I had lied to him when I promised I could make him better."

"What the hell are you talking about!" Peter shouted. "I'm standing _right here_! I'm not dead, I don't even remember being sick!"

"Do you remember when I told you I became obsessed with alternate realities because I sought to take from there what was taken from me, here?" Walter asked, surprisingly calm. Peter never wanted to throttle him so bad in his life.

"Yeah, so?"

"I'd lost my only son. The only thought I had anymore was to get him back, by any means necessary. But you cannot raise the dead. When Bill and I discovered a way to cross into another world, my only thought was that in this other world, you might still be alive. When I found you in an orphanage, alone and unwanted, I didn't even think twice when I took you back with me."

Peter had had enough. "Walter, stop it. This is insane, even for you. You're trying to tell me that I'm not only dead in this reality, but you _stole_ me from an alternate dimension so you could have a son back that you barely registered I was there anyway? Why wouldn't I remember that?"

Walter sniffed loudly and for the first time, Peter realized his father was crying. He physically stepped back from the older man, not entirely sure what to do.

"You wouldn't remember if I had wiped your memory," Walter said softly. "I wanted my son back, and I was willing to do anything…_anything_…to do it. I tried to find a way to give you my Peter's memories. To make you into him in more than just DNA. I only succeeded in making you forget huge chunks of your life. You still wouldn't call me daddy, and you never trusted me. You retained at least some small part of the real you instead of the Peter I tried to make you into.

"Your mother finally caught me one day and made me put an end to it. She had you back in one form, and she was happy to have you back in whatever way she could get you. I couldn't make myself accept you as my son unless you were exactly like him, and while trying to find you, I slowly lost myself…"

Peter felt himself slide slowly to his knees on the partially frozen ground. This was insane. But the horrible reality of it was it made sense. Not even just a little sense, but a lot of sense. Why his father always looked so sad when he looked at him, especially around birthdays and holidays. How he couldn't remember any of the things Walter spoke about when he was younger. Why he always felt out of place, like he was somehow different from everyone. "I'm…an alternate Peter? Just a replacement for something you lost?" he whispered. "Jesus, Walter, did you even want me when you realized your experiment was lost?"

Walter shuffled a few steps closer to his son, but made no attempt to comfort him. "Son, I crossed the space-time continuum to bring you home. Of course I wanted you. But I was scared for you. You seemed healthy then, but who was to say you weren't going to get sick too? I couldn't save you the first time, and I didn't have a second time in me. I avoided you because you were a constant reminder of how I had failed one son. I just didn't realize that by doing that I was losing you anyway. Things like that don't occur to you when you've gone mad."

Peter looked up at his father, noticing that a light dusting of snow was beginning to cover the ground. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Would you have believed me?" Walter asked gently. "I couldn't tell you. You already had enough problems fitting in. Telling you that you were from somewhere else in time and space didn't seem like the best way to help you. Besides, I didn't think you would ever forgive me."

Peter could only think that for once, his father was right.

Thoughts? Opinions? Con crit?


End file.
